


Cursed

by WillowPatronus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Era, Gen, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Original Female Character, What if Sirius Black had a Daughter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowPatronus/pseuds/WillowPatronus
Summary: One of the most desired things among wizards and Muggles alike is eternal life. They see it as a way to escape pain, but little do they know it only intensifies it. If it were a choice, maybe I wouldn't be so angry. But I was born this way, and the world refuses to accept how much more horrible eternal life is than mortal life. It's a curse, and no one seems to care.I'm still a kid, I shouldn't need to worry about life. I shouldn't need to worry about my father being in Azkaban. I shouldn't need to worry about wars. I shouldn't have to be jealous of the lives other kids get to have. I’m just a kid, I shouldn’t have to worry about these things.Beta read by Ginny Lovegood from harrypotterfanfiction.com
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley & Original Female Character(s), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Original Female Character & Ron Weasley, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. Moony thinks I’m a handful

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of a crappy fic I started a year ago, but this time I’ve actually developed my MC’s character and the plot actually makes more sense
> 
> This story is going to be very long, not sure how long just yet, but very long nonetheless.
> 
> Just so you know, this first chapter is written in a kind of really funky style, though it’s 100% intentional. I’ll start writing like a normal person once chapter 2 comes, but definitely for chapter 1, I really wanted to write it like this.

Moony always tells me I was a gift to all those around me when I was born, but I know I wasn’t wanted. How could I have been? A war was going on, it wasn’t a great time to start having kids.

When I was 1-year-old, my father was sent to Azkaban for a crime Moony’s positive he couldn’t have committed. “He doesn’t have the heart to do something like that,” he says. “He would never betray his best friend.”

By the age of 3, the Healers at St Mungo’s were pretty sure they knew what was going on with me. Weirdos obsessed with the so-called “Deathly Hallows” immediately recognised the symbol imprinted on my forearm. “The owner of the three Hallows is the Master of Death,” they said. “And while this girl may not be in possession of them, she likely still possesses the power of them.”

At the age of 5, Moony tried putting me in a Muggle school. By the end of the day, the teacher was begging him to enroll me in another class, saying that she couldn’t handle me. I was charming at first, but became rather vicious when they told me to take my sweater off and I refused. Biting all those children and pulling out their hair wasn’t my finest moment, but they got what they deserved.

Moony tried enrolling me in another class at the same school. I kicked a classmate in the shins when he tugged on my braids. I shoved a meter stick down another classmate’s trousers when he made fun of me for not living with either of my parents, but instead one of their friends. The school expelled me, the ungrateful idiots.

When I was 7, Moony tried putting me in another Muggle school. He managed to scare me into behaving myself for about a week, but when it got too hot outside one day, I was forced to take my sweater off, I hate the heat. A kid made fun of the symbol on my arm, and I broke his jaw. Moony yelled at me when I got home. He said I needed to learn to control my temper, that he wouldn’t let me go to Hogwarts if I kept picking on kids for making fun of me. He decided to give up on trying to put me in Muggle schools, he said it wasn’t worth the effort. I’m not Muggle school material, he liked to say.

His solution to get me to learn to control my temper around other people was to introduce me to the kids of a couple he knew through his work with the Order. The couple weren’t part of the Order since they had little kids to worry about, but the mother’s twin brothers worked with Moony (they even went to school together), and so he knew the family well enough. The couple has a kid my age. His name is Ron. He doesn’t make fun of me like the other kids. I don’t feel a need to shove a meter stick in his cloak.

Moony never told me, but I knew he really only wanted me to get to know the family so that I would have somewhere to go during his transformations. He didn’t like the way I treated the babysitters he hired.

I do like this family, though. They’re very caring; they accepted me with open arms when I walked onto their doorstep. They told me that Moony had told them all about me. They even knew about my mark. I think Moony must have warned them not to ask me about the stupid thing, he knows I tend to get aggressive when people get too curious.

Moony doesn’t like the way I talk about my mark. “Willow, dear, after 11 years I really expected you to loosen up about this,” he says. “You need to have an open mind about this. Billions of people would kill to be immortal.”

“Well I’m not billions of people,” I snarl at him. “I’m only one person, I’m only me. I’ve tried keeping an open mind about it, but all that does is make me hate it more. I don’t want it, Moony! It’s stupid, I don’t want it!” No matter how much I argue, though, he never wants to listen.

Ron listens. He tries to understand. “That must suck,” he says. “I would love to never die, but it must be different when you’re born with it and when you choose it.” Ron’s a good person. He would never tell me I need to keep an open mind about it.

His siblings like to make fun of me for it. They aren’t over much when I’m there (they’re all already at Hogwarts or graduated from Hogwarts, and Ron and I don’t start until next term), but when they are over, they’re not as understanding as Ron.

Bill’s very curious, and although he’s nice about it, he asks too many questions.

Charlie’s thinking about dragons too often to engage in a conversation about it.

Percy likes telling me eternal life oughtn’t be possible, that we can’t be too sure that my mark actually means I’m immortal. But once I swallowed a vial of a deadly, fast-acting poison Moony was keeping in storage to make some weird potion. That was 8 years ago.

Fred and George make too many jokes. “They like to poke the bear,” as Moony likes to put it. I once almost pushed Fred out of Ron’s bedroom window because his jokes about it weren’t very funny anymore.

Ginny, the only daughter of Mr and Mrs Weasley, doesn’t talk to me much. Mrs Weasley says it’s because she’s jealous that Ron’s the one who gets to hang out with the only girl that ever visits their house. I think it’s because she’s afraid I might almost push her out a window too.

* * *

I don’t think Moony ever planned on having to father a kid. Especially not his friend’s kid. I highly doubt Moony planned on any of his life going like this. I can’t blame him, though. If we were adults and Ron got sent to Azkaban for supposedly killing a friend of ours (one of which currently doesn’t exist, people don’t like me) and I was forced to take care of his infant child, I’d be _pissed_. I hate kids.

Moony says I don’t understand his situation. He says there’s parts I’m not taking into account. I ask him which parts, but he doesn’t like to tell me. I like to make guesses, though, and he likes telling me no to all of them. The only guess I ever made that drew any extra reaction out of him was a pure joke, it wasn’t even supposed to be anything serious. He was explaining to me earlier that day how he identified as bisexual, a term from a community I’d heard of but never payed much attention to. I thought it was cool that he was totally fine dating boys and girls, even though I knew that wasn’t for me. He told me to pay more attention, that I might find myself to be part of the community some day, but I’m not really into that sort of stuff. Dating people sounds boring, couples are awkward and stupid. I don’t think I’d like being drawn into one of those. And plus, if I got married someday, I would forever have to mourn the loss of my dearly departed spouse. I don’t want to have to deal with that.

Remembering that conversation later in the day while I was guessing the missing part of the equation, it gave me the idea for another funny joke, another one to make him chuckle. “Did you _loooove_ my dad?” I laughed to him one night last winter. His face grew pink and he forgot how to say “no,” and instead ended up just blubbering some nonsense. He thinks I’ve forgotten the moment, but I was too shocked that he didn’t give me a flat out “no” to just forget it like that.

I’ve tried applying that new information to the scenario where Ron got sent to Azkaban and I was forced to deal with his kid. That would mean that I would like Ron in that gross couple way. But I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.

* * *

Moony thinks I need therapy. He claims I’m depressed, he believes I might also have some sort of anxiety. He doesn’t like the panic attacks I get in the middle of nights. He’s very nice about them and can usually get me to calm down, having dealt with many of them during his Hogwarts years. He knows his and mine are from different things, his about his “furry little problem,” mine from thinking too much about the future.

He says therapy is a Muggle way to help you through bad stuff. You talk to a person and they try to make you feel better. He tried to get me to go a couple years ago, but he should’ve known better. I tried throwing books at the windows. I screamed until I couldn’t scream any more. Moony mostly swatted down the books and managed to keep me quiet, but I did manage to break a window. We had to move extra early that year. We also didn’t have as much to eat for the following month because Moony had to pay for window repairs.

He says that’s part of the reason to go, I need to learn to control my emotions. He never mentions it, but I know there’s more to it. One day he had to quickly run to the store, and for some reason thought it a good idea to leave me home alone. I have a small dent in my left forearm now, right where my mark is. My mind was in a weird place, and one I spotted the kitchen knives, I couldn’t stop myself.

He also doesn’t like that I often tell him I don’t need to eat. Or drink. Or sleep. And I don’t, not really. It’s not like it can kill me. “Willow, your mark keeps you alive, it doesn’t keep you healthy,” Moony tells me. “You know what it’s like when you deprive yourself of these essentials for too long. I don’t want you getting sick again like that.”

* * *

Most years, we have to move. Move houses, that is. Or apartments. Whatever we can afford. He can’t find jobs that let him take several sick days every month, and even when he finds one that might work if he talks to the right people, there’s never a good place near for his transformation.

So we move a lot. Most years it’s twice, though if we’re in a good area, we might be able to get away with only moving once. Moony apologises a lot about it, but I like moving to new places. I like decorating my room (when I get a room to myself (sometimes he can only find one with one bedroom)), I like exploring the kitchen and opening all the cupboards. I like helping Moony find a good place to put his bookshelves, I like reorganising them every time we move. Sometimes they go alphabetical by title, sometimes alphabetical by author. Sometimes in the colours of the rainbow, sometimes by genre. I like doing them by size, it gives the tops a pretty curve. Moony likes putting them in order of his favourites, with the ones he likes the most at the top and the ones he doesn’t like as much at the bottom. I think it’s funny how the order changes every time.

I usually hang out with the Weasleys for a couple days while Moony deals with moving everything. He says he doesn’t want me fucking around with the boxes. He likes swearing in front of me. Either that, or he doesn’t care about who he’s with when he starts spitting out colorful curse words.

The Weasleys never move. They’re always living in the same big house, never a concern that they have to move everything they own to a new house twice a year. I’d never tell anyone, but I’m jealous of them. I think it would be nice to not have to worry about this stuff.

* * *

Moony says Dad has money. He says there’s a whole vault of it down in Gringotts. I ask him why we can’t just live in a nicer place or find better jobs or buy new clothing instead of buying half our wardrobes from thrift stores. Moony says it isn’t his money to spend, that he doesn’t own the money. “But I’m Dad’s daughter,” I tell Moony. “If he’s my dad, and I’m his kid, can’t I use the money?”

“No,” he always tells me. “Just because he’s your father doesn’t mean that you own everything he does. Once you start going to Hogwarts, however, we might need to use a little of it because I doubt I can afford all of your supplies on my own, but we can’t let your father come back some day to an empty vault. He wouldn’t much like having to live like this.”

Moony likes keeping an open mind about things. He’s convinced he’ll some day get Dad out of Azkaban, that someday he’ll find the evidence necessary to do away with his life sentence. But the Ministry is horrible, they don’t care if they incarcerate innocent lives.

* * *

I often feel bad for Moony to have to deal with someone like me. He thinks I don’t hear him when he mutters how annoyed he is with me under his breath. But we never live in a big house, it’s hard not to hear everything that’s going on. It’s hard not to hear the neighbours, and there’s always at least one solid wall in between us. I’ve considered running away on more than one occasion, but I never end up doing it, I know that would cause him a lot more stress than living with me ever would.

“You’re like an undisciplined version of your father,” Moony says all the time. “Your father grew up around strict rules and rich snobs. He learned that breaking the rules at his house meant trouble. Big trouble. I would never do what his parents did to him to you, I’m not evil. But I guess this is what I get for having to take care of Sirius’ kid.”

Moony’s more of an optimist than I am, he thinks my future will be bright. I think he forgets sometimes that I’m as good as cursed. I’m a “pessimist” he says, but I’m not sure I agree. I can expect good things will happen, just maybe not as much as he does.

I try to keep him happy, I think he needs it. I know I push him past the limit more often than not, but I also know he’d give his life to protect me if harm ever came my way. I just hope that someday his efforts will actually pay off.


	2. Who needs patience, anyway?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Height is a social construct, please get rid of it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to get this out… life is chaos

“Come  _ on _ , Moony!” I exclaim as he drives the car into a parking space right outside King’s Cross Station. “Let’s go, I don’t want to be late!”

“Will, we’re not going to be late,” Moony sighs. “We’re nowhere near being late, don’t worry. The Hogwarts Express won’t leave for another half hour, we’ve got time.” He steps out of the car and walks around to the back to retrieve my luggage.

A loud crunch sounds as I swing the passenger side car door open with too much enthusiasm. I peek over and catch sight of a dent I’ve just made on the driver’s door of the car next to us.

“What was that?” Moony asks as he shuts the trunk.

“I dunno… I think some cars must have crashed somewhere in the parking lot. That  _ did _ sound like the crunching of a car, didn’t it? I’ve crashed enough cars in my day to know what that’d sound like.”

With an expression half between disappointment and amusement, he approaches me. “First of all, don’t lie to me.” He takes out his wand and patches up the dent in the car with a discreet flick. “Second of all, you need to be more careful.”

“I  _ am _ careful!”

He ignores my comment. “And third of all, I have got to say, your lies are getting better. Better, but not good yet. I’ve got a couple pointers to give you that could help refine your technique. For example, never start with ‘I dunno.’ While it can come naturally to many in situations where they really don’t know what’s going on, once it’s established that you’re lying, it really just brings the whole thing down. If you’re feeling risky enough to include it, however, then watch the tone. A convincing tone is  _ everything _ . Also: don’t ramble on too long. If you really didn’t know what was going on, you wouldn’t be chatting away and talking about all sorts of things. So keep the additions to a minimum. Like the thing about knowing what crashing cars sounds like? Of course  _ I _ would know you knew that. I am your guardian, after all. And it  _ was _ my car you crashed all those times.”

When he finishes speaking, I stare at him incredulously. “You’re seriously teaching me how to lie? Aren’t you afraid I’ll use it against you?

“Oh, I know you’re going to use it against me. But you’re going off to Hogwarts now, and I know you’ll be getting into mischief over there. I don’t want to have to deal with you being in detention every other night, so I hope that if you know how to lie better, you won’t get in trouble as often. And anyway, I’m your uncle, not your father. I don’t have to be so harsh with you. Though, I doubt Sirius would have done any better. Odds are he’d’ve given you a crash course on lying when you were three.”

“Would he really have?” I ask, my eyes lighting up.

Moony smiles sadly. “You’d have loved growing up with him. One day, I promise you’ll be able to spend enough time with him to make up for all these years apart.”

Unsure what to say, I sort of just nod along and tug on one of my long blonde braids. For years he’s been promising I’ll get to spend as much time as I want with Dad someday. He’s working hard at it, but his constant frustration at the Ministry of Magic tells me he isn’t getting nearly as much done as he’d like. “Well, er… I think we best be off, then. I’d really rather not miss the train.”

We spend the next several minutes bickering about how early you need to wake up so as not to miss the Hogwarts Express and other trivial things while we enter the station and make our way towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. The moment we find it, I hurtle myself forward and into it, ignoring Moony’s shouts to be careful. When I emerge on the other side, my eyes open wide and I take a deep breath.  _ The platform smells like adventure. _

Moony comes running through the barrier with his eyebrows furrowed. “Will, don’t run off like that. I don’t want you to get injured. The term hasn’t even started yet, I don’t want to have to deal with this already.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I breathe as I take in my surroundings. A scarlet red train waits on the train tracks, ready to depart when the time arrives. There are few families on the platform, though nowhere near as many as I’d expect there would be. “Hey, Moony? Why aren’t there a lot of people here?”

“Because no one gets here until it’s almost too late. There’ll be less than a minute left before the train leaves and there will still be a lot of people coming through the barriers. It’s only 10:45 right now, we’ve got a lot of time. Also, most people aren’t impatient enough to wake up their guardians at  _ three in the goddamn morning _ , saying that they’re afraid another moment’s sleep will make them late.”

I pretend not to have heard what he said and walk up to the train. “This thing’s amazing! Any idea how fast it goes?”

“No.”

“Can’t you figure it out with math? Y’know, with distances and times and stuff?”

“ _ You _ can if  _ you _ want, but I’m not going to.”

“You’re boring,” I groan. I spin around to face the platform quickly enough that one of my braids whacks me in the face. I recoil a little and fling it behind my shoulder. The bits and pieces of conversation I can hear around the platform are amusing (“Oliver, enough about Quidditch already! The term hasn’t even started yet!” and “How much trouble do you think the Weasley twins are going to get into  _ this _ year?” and the like), but they aren’t very interesting.

“D’you think you’re ready for Hogwarts?” Moony asks as he sets down my trunk.

“Of course,” I scoff. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m only saying something because I want you to know that I’m here for you. In case you need anyone to talk to, that is.”

“Talk to? I don’t need anyone to  _ talk to _ ! I’m 110% fine! I mean, who cares that both schools I’ve attended thus far have expelled me! Dunno about you, but I definitely don’t care! Oh, also: who cares that no one ever seems to like me? I’m fine with that. Completely fine, I say! Who even needs friends, anyway? It’s not like they can even do much for you or anything. Okay, except Ron. He’s lovely. But aside from him? I wouldn’t care if everyone suddenly vanished off the face of the Earth! I wouldn’t care if all life died and I was the only living thing left on the planet, here to rot in solitude for all of eternity, never able to see or be with absolutely anyone or anything ever again forever.”

A heavy silence weighs down upon us. Neither of us speak for several minutes, but instead just stand there, me filled with anger and dread, Moony with an unreadable expression.

At last, he clears his throat. “It’s okay if you’re scared—”

“ _ Scared _ ? Merlin’s beard, I’m not  _ scared _ ! I’m just… a tad bit pissed off that I’m the person who has to deal with this! I’m a bloody kid! It should be some stupid old man cursed with this, not me.”

He frowns. “I’m not just talking about that. I know you like talking to people, and I know not having people your age to interact with frequently really affects you. But I promise you, you’ll find people at Hogwarts who will want to spend time with you. I didn’t expect to make any friends during my time there, and I ended up leaving with a handful of the best people in the world to call my friends. I have no doubt that by the end of your seven years, you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

I sort of start squirming and look away. I hate it when he’s right. Sometimes he doesn’t even have to be right, he just makes me feel ridiculous about what I’d just said and it gives the same effect.

Eager for a distraction, I glance up to the clock. 10:55. So close.

“Can’t the damn train leave already? I’m sick of waiting.”

“You  _ do _ understand that even once you get on the train, it’s still an 8 hour ride, right?”

I whine and slump up against Moony. “Why does the world seem to hate meee?” I groan.

“The world would hate you less if you had a tad more patience,” he grumbles. “And buck up, it looks like more people are arriving.”

I jump up and stand on tip-toes to get a better look of the quickly thickening crowd. Even then, I can barely see. “Do you see the Weasleys anywhere? I can’t see anything.” You see, I suffer from something very serious that many people on the face of the Earth (including me) have to struggle with daily. It makes day-to-day tasks often more difficult, and it can lead to a lot of negative jokes pointed your way. It’s a very serious thing, nothing that deserves laughs.

It’s called being short.

“I don’t see them just yet. But we have still got five minutes, I’m sure they’ll be here soon. In the meantime, though, let’s get your trunk up and onto the train before too many compartments fill up.”

I lead Moony to a set of stairs leading up into the train and take my luggage from him. I snatch the last open compartment nearby (I had to frighten a couple kids around my age away from it, since they were about to take it for themselves) and heave my trunk up onto the rack above. Moony opens the compartment window from outside with a flick of his wand and he leans his head inside.

“Mighty fine compartment you’ve got here.”

“I know,” I say as a smile breaks out on my face.

“You’re finally on your way to your first year at Hogwarts.”

“I am!”

“You’ve waited a long time for this.”

“I have.”

“Excited?”

“Of course!

Moony adopts a serious smile and starts to lecture me about what to do and what not to do at Hogwarts (Do: homework, eat food, drink fluids, send letters, etc. / Don’t: anger the professors, break too many rules, bully anyone, etc.). I only half pay attention, and I think he can tell as he gets towards the end. “Now, there’s one last thing I’ve got to say, and then I promise I’ll let you enjoy your day. In case you forgot, Harry Potter should be in your year. Chances are he’ll have no idea who you are, so please don’t frighten him in any way. Also keep in mind he might not want to talk about some things, you know how aggressive  _ you _ get when people ask you too many questions.”

“So what do you want me to do about him?”

“At least get to know him. I haven’t seen him in a decade and I’m curious how life’s been treating him.”

“Fine…” I mutter. I look again at the now full platform. “I still don’t see Ron. I thought you’d said he’d be here?”

“Well he’s not going to appear out of thin air, is he? He’s probably somewhere on the platform, but I can’t tell what’s red hair and what’s Gryffindor apparel anymore.”

“ _ Mooonyyy _ !”

“Look, if you don’t see him by the time the train leaves, just take your trunk and go find him. You’ve got ages on the train, I promise you’ll see him before you get to Hogwarts.”

“Promise?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

A loud horn sounds and the train starts to move. Moony jumps back and takes his head out of the open window so as not to get injured.

“Moony!”

“What?” He has to walk to keep up with the train.

I don’t say anything, I just look at him with a half frightened look on my face.

“You’re going to love it there. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Promise?”

He’s jogging now. With a roll of his eyes, he sighs, “Promise.”

The train picks up enough speed, and before I know it, I’ve left the station. I hastily wrench the window closed to prevent too much wind from blowing through and messing everything up. After I get it closed, I sort of stand there, feeling almost… lost. I’ve never been away from Moony for more than a few nights, and that’s always during his transformations. And even then, I was with Ron the whole time. Now I don’t even know where he is. When we get to Hogwarts, we likely won’t even be in the same house. And what if everyone in my house hates me? Will they force me to sleep in the common room? Or out in the hallways? Or outside the  _ school _ ?

I suddenly get rudely interrupted by the swinging open of the compartment door. A short, platinum blond haired kid stands there. “Mind if I sit here?” he drawls.

“All yours. I was just on my way out.” I stand up on a seat to pull down my trunk.

“I’m Malfoy, by the way,” he says in the same annoying tone. “Draco Malfoy.”

“Ew,” I say, unable to stop myself. “Malfoys are dicks,” I sneer as I step out of the compartment. With hurried steps, I make my way down the corridor. Moony’s told me a couple stories about how big of a pain in the arse the Malfoys are and how they’ve always been strongly anti-muggleborn. Rather not associate myself with that sort of folk. And plus, that kid was annoying as  _ hell _ . I mean, you might think it wise to at least give him a chance, but that  _ voice _ . That voice alone is enough to make you want to rip your ears out. He sounded full of himself. And not in a good way.

I don’t even reach the end of the corridor before another voice starts speaking to me. “Willow Black? Is that you?”

That voice also bugs me. Similar tone, but not nearly as full of himself.

“Percy Weasley? Is that you?” I mimic, turning on my heel.

“I was wondering when I’d get to see you. I trust you’re doing well—”

“Oh, put a sock in it, Percy. Where’s Ron? I didn’t see any of you on the platform.”

He frowns. “And a warm welcome to you too. He’s at the very end of the train, if you’re so interested. I hope your first ride on the train goes well,” he says as he walks away. I can hear him mumbling, but the loud sounds of the train make it impossible to hear.

Shaking my head a little, I adjust the grip on my trunk and run through the train, past hundreds of compartments full of chatty students. Occasionally I’ll catch a student performing elegant acts of magic that catch my eye, but I’m too set on finding my friend to stop and admire it.

By the time I reach the final train car, I’m out of breath. I stop a moment or two to regain my breath and start moving again, but slower this time. I peer into each compartment, looking for any familiar face. Finally, reaching the second to last compartment, I grin. The door isn’t closed properly, so I can hear some of what they’re saying as I approach.

“He’s pretty useless, all he ever does is eat and sleep.”

“Who’re you talking about, yourself?” I laugh as I swing the door open.

A red-headed boy’s eyes light up as he jumps out of his seat. “Will!”

“Ron!” I drop my luggage and walk forward a couple steps to meet him with a big hug. “I’m so sorry it’s been so long since we last saw each other, you know how things go.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” he chuckles. We release from the hug and he takes my trunk to put up on the luggage rack. “At least now I get to spend all this time at Hogwarts with you.” Before he can put my trunk up, he stops and looks at a boy sitting across the compartment from him. “Sorry, I didn’t even ask. Would it be alright if Will joined us? She’s a friend of mine.”

The boy looks between the two of us, and the corners of his lips twitch down for a split second. I wouldn’t have caught it if I hadn’t been paying attention. “Sure,” he says in a surprisingly cheerful voice.

“Wicked,” Ron smiles as he tosses my trunk all the way up.

I take a seat down closest to the window next to Ron and look at the other boy closer. He has brown skin and jet black hair that sticks up in every direction. He too appears to be short and scrawny, this fact only emphasized by his clothing being several sizes too large. He wears circular, wireframe glasses that appear to have broken many times and are held together in the middle by a piece of transparent tape. It’s not so much the appearance of this boy that strikes me odd, but the familiarity of it all.

“I’m Willow, by the way, but you can call me Will.” Might as well try to make a friend. And hey, if Ron’s here with him (and doesn’t seem to be upset), he must be pretty alright.

“I’m Harry,” he says. “Harry Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that wasn’t too slow, and I hope the end wasn’t too fast-paced.
> 
> Comments and kudos help me get new chapters out so much faster! If you can, please leave some support for my story :)

**Author's Note:**

> I have a question: have any of you read the book “The Westing Game”? And if so, did you catch my subtle sort-of-reference-to-it-but-not-really to it at the start? It’s in paragraph 5 in case you wanted to go back and check it out... I’ll be ecstatic if anyone understands what I’m talking about
> 
> Sorry this chapter raised a lot of questions and sorry I didn’t really describe her appearance much or say her name much either, but you’ll get more of that in chap 2. I really just wanted to get across to everyone how insane she is before we got into much else.
> 
> In case you didn’t read the tags or didn’t figure it out while reading, yeah, she’s Sirius’ kid. It’ll make a lot more sense later, I’m really trying to stick mostly to canon (aside from the fact that there’s this whole other child). I was struggling for a while on what she should call Remus, but eventually settled on Moony because honestly it sounds so adorable
> 
> Please please please leave kudos and comments if you liked this, I’m working really hard on it and support from readers would be super helpful to get me writing more!


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